Fire of Violins
by SilverJackel-V
Summary: It's been a year since the Incident. Now only with musicians to fill the hall, a newcomer with a violin gets the Opera Ghost's attention. Can she reignite his passion for music? First fanfic, so let's see how this goes.
1. The New Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, except my own. The lyrics belong to Mephistophele's Returns- Trans Siberian Orchestra.

Chapter 1: The New Girl

Rain poured into the streets of Paris. Annabelle's body rocked inside the buggy she was riding, her violin case pressed tight against her torso. The crowds were beginning to thin; the rain poured down harder. There was a small jolt as the buggy came to a stop.

Annabelle stepped out of the carriage. She looked up at the impressive building. The Opera Populaire. The dark stone looked ominous from the rain. Lightning flashed and she placed her case over her head to stop the rain from drenching her. A few drops of rain still landed on her arm and neck. The coldness sent shivers through her body.

It had been a year since the Chandelier Incident. Fearing that the place was cursed, no one tried producing an opera play. The beautiful building had almost been torn down after no one had bought it, but there was a savior. The patron, the Vicomtess de Chengy, opted for the Opera Populaire to remain open as a musical concert hall and ballet school.

In fact, that was the reason Annabelle was there. She snapped out of her daze when the buggy driver nudged her arm, his arms heavy with her bags. With an embarrassed smile, she gestured for him to follow her in.

The large doors swung open. Her mouth almost fell open. It was just as grand inside as it had been during its glory days. She opened up her acceptance letter, following the directions to her room. She stopped at a dark oak door. The buggy dropped her bags, tipped his hat when she passed him his fee, and left without saying a word.

Annabelle opened the door. The hinges were well oiled and didn't squeak. The room smelled a little musty with perfume mixed with dead flowers. Despite the rain, she opened the window to air out the room. She was here, she was actually here! Her shaky hand brushed her bangs out of her face. Looking at the mirror, she unstrapped the eye patch that was covering her left eye. Four claw marks flared red over her pale skin. Next, she removed the silk scarf from around her neck. A chunk of flesh was missing from the same side.

Her fingers traced the scars over her eye and breathed out quietly. They were the remnants of a dog attack from when she was a child. Doctors had informed her parents that she would have scars and be unable to speak. Her mother was shamed that she would never be able to attract a respectable husband. Her father had encouraged her in hobbies to keep her occupied as she healed. She participated in everything from learning the violin to horseback riding. She excelled in her music interests and had earned a spot in the concert orchestra.

Madame Giry had ensured that she would have a quiet and secretive spot so she could be comfortable taking off her coverings. It would also be helpful in keeping the other females from discovering her scars.

Annabelle sat down on the bed and looked around her room fully for the first time. It had been the lead soprano's dressing room before the renovations. The majority of it was clean, but there were still papers and dead flowers scattered around. She began cleaning, wiping away the dust away. Her eyes landed on the papers. There were musical notes here and there, words printed beneath them. An opera song?

Perhaps. Unable to help herself, she placed them on her bed, picked her violin up from the case and made sure it was in tune. She looked at the notes again briefly. Annabelle placed the bow against the strings and began to play. She read the words beneath the notes.

_"Tell me what you think_

_Tell me what you know._

_Did you really think there will be an ever after?_

_Do you think I'm scared?_

_Tell me, does it show?_

_When inside this darkness I can hear his whispering."_

The tone was angry and dark. Her bow froze on the last note. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her heart jumped into her throat as she looked around the empty room. Could it be him? The Phantom? It was a possibility; he had never been caught.

She placed her instrument on the bed, resting her back against the headboard of the bed. Annabelle didn't have to report to Madame Giry until the following afternoon. A smile on her lips, she went to the dresser and pulled out a blank sheet from her journal. Five long lines were drawn on it. Back with her violin, she closed her eyes, trying to feel a song. After a few warm ups, she began to string notes together.

Her tune was light, happy. Her fingers and bow danced over the instrument's strings. Periodically, she would pause and write the notes down, adding words beneath them.

A few hours later, Annabelle looked down at her two small compositions. Satisfied with her work, she stretched out on her bed. Lying out on her left side, she looked out the window. The rain was still pouring down. She should unpack; make her room to her liking. But her eyes felt heavy. Slowly, the rain made her fall asleep.

There was movement in the shadows. A figure stepped out, glancing at her sleeping form. The music from a violin had drawn him out of his lair. Gone was the joy of singing. The fact that his beloved Christine was paying for the continuance of his home filled him with guilty rage. Honestly, he had no right to be angry. She had made her choice and had chosen a normal life.

For the past year he had remained hidden, only leaving behind messages and blueprints as renovations began. Even his lair was moved into a larger grotto, more booby traps guarding the place when he was not there.

He had been sulking, sitting lifelessly at his organ. An unfinished symphony was scattered across the floor. Until sweet notes came to his ears. How long had it been since he had heard the practiced hand on a violin? Curiosity roused him from his self-pity. The notes got louder when he got closer in his secret passageway. When he looked through the two-way mirror, he was taken by surprise. Surprise was an odd feeling to him. Her back to him, he has seen a young woman playing and.. Composing?

It wasn't unusual, but it was rare to see such a sight. He wanted to see the finished progress. Luckily, patience was one of his best virtues. He only had to wait for another twenty minutes. The woman had placed her violin back in the case and stretched out over the covers. Making sure she was asleep, that was when he had come into the room.

His footsteps were as quiet as a ghost. He looked down at the papers scattered on her bed. He stifled a small chuckle. Her bed looked just like his when he got into one of his moods. Her compositions were simple, but with a guiding hand, become masterpieces. He looked at her sleeping form. A familiar feeling grew in his chest. The last time he had felt it, he had been the Angel to a new soprano singer. He muffled a growl. He would not even think her, not even her name. Maybe, just maybe, this young violinist could reignite his passion.


	2. The Audition

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

Chapter 2: The Audition

Madame Giry walked calmly down the hall while dancing students and other musicians loitered about. The soft lines on her face and gray in her hair gave away her age, but the confidence in her steps made her appear much younger than she was. Most of the students lingered near the stage, waiting for the day to begin.

The noise from the voices quieted the closer she got to the back rooms. In her hand was a thick sheet of paper. The wax seal of a skull stood out prominently. It had been a while since she had heard from... Well, she supposed she could call him a friend. The occasional letter had appeared during the renovations and she ensured that his orders were followed. Despite what the rumors were, she still believed him to be a genius. Crazy, but a genius.

She stopped at the dark door. It was in the back corner, and had been the room to the previous star. With a wistful smile, Madame Giry knew that placing the new violinist back here had been the right thing.

Her hand rose hesitantly before knocking on the wood softly. With the quiet, it was easy to hear the girl's footsteps on the carpet. The door opened slowly, revealing half of a woman's face between the door and the frame. Madame Giry let the feel of the teacher disappear and smiled motherly. "It's been a while Annabelle."

Even though the girl could not speak, the excitement was evident all over her face. She tugged on her sleeve, inviting her new guardian inside. Once in, she looked at the young girl who was now a woman. Her body had filled out nicely, but not over the top. Her sleek black hair reached her waist, a nice set of bangs covering the patch over her left eye.

Annabelle rushed around, showing her photos of her family, and some of the events she had participated in after her accident. Madame Giry was a childhood friend of her mother, but they had lost contact once she moved to become a professional ballet dancer. The pleasantries out of the way, the mature teacher held out the envelope. Her eyes stayed on Annabelle. The young woman's reaction was the opposite of what she had expected.

Her eyes widened when she saw the seal. Her fingers shook when she reached out for it. Carefully, she peeled the letter open. Two smaller sheets of paper fluttered down to the floor. Her eyes quickly scanned the neat writing printed in red ink.

_"My dear violinist,_

_The music I have heard from you, as well as your compositions, have peaked my interest._

_I know this may be sudden, but I believe with a guiding hand, you can create masterpieces._

_Write a response by tomorrow night. If you wish me gone, you will not hear from me. Send the_

_care of ghost by return of post._

_~O.P."_

Annabelle held the letter close to her chest and smiled shyly. Madame Giry bent down, retrieving the two other sheets of paper. Her eyes looked over from the note. They were her compositions from the previous evening. Red notes and suggestions were around her music. The infamous Phantom was interested in her work. An exciting day indeed.

"If you are ready, the new students are preparing to be placed in their sections of the orchestra. Be sure to tune your violin beforehand." Madame Giry waited patiently for Annabelle to pick up her violin case before they left the room.

Annabelle had been so excited that she had tuned her violin earlier that morning, and had been checking on it for the past few hours. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, as if she was being watched for a second. The door closed quietly behind her. Shaking the feeling off, she followed Madame Giry to the stage area. She could see others of her class placing resin on their bows, other's turning their cellos, and even others just sitting there, looking around as if everyone bored them.

From the stage, everything looked much grander than she had imagined. The red seats stood out wonderfully against the grey marble. Cherubs and statues had been repainted to a glowing gold colour. Beautiful drapes covered the sides of the stage and the box seats that sat around the sides. Even the torches had been cleaned to bring out the dark iron.

The Maestro strode down the side aisle, a group of folders tucked under his arm. The students quieted down as he approached. He was an old, balding man. His feet shuffled quietly against the floor. He stooped forward slightly, like the world was on his shoulders. At the podium, he set the folders down and shuffled the papers to his liking.

"Good afternoon. This afternoon, you will be tested to see where you are in the learning of your class of instrument. The top student will be first chair and potential soloist; second will be second chair and so on. I do not tolerate laziness or showing off. Stick to the notes on the paper and we will not have a problem." For a small man, his voice boomed over them. His sharp eyes drifted over them all. "Step forward and receive the portion of the concert you may, or may not, be playing in when I call you name."

Annabelle shifted in her seat, still nervous about how she could do. Her name was called and she darted forward, retrieving her folder. She quietly retreated back to her chair. They were allowed to briefly look at what they had before being tested. She opened hers and read the top. Bruch in G Minor, Op. 26 "II. Adagio". The piece seemed easy.

Quiet settled in the concert hall once the auditions went underway. Some showed great potential, making her start to doubt the Phantom's words that he wanted to teach her. Maybe it was a mistake? She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. The note was still in the pocket of her dress. Madame Giry watched from the back of the stage, along with the other ballet students. Other players made her want to grit her teeth and cover her ears. It sounded worse than claws going down a chalkboard.

When her name was called, she was as ready as she could be. She gulped and went in front of the Maestro. A stand was lowered to her height. She placed her music sheet on it and placed her violin in its proper place. The Maestro made some quick adjustments to her posture. He smiled reassuringly. "Now remember to follow my lead. I may speed up or slow down at any time."

She nodded to show that she understood. The bow sung out a soft high note that began to grow. Her fingers shook a little on the neck of the violin, creating a wonderful wavering tone. She looked at the music. In her peripherals, she could watch the Maestro's hands, following them while she still read. A sudden feeling took her.

A warmth grew in her chest and made her body feel weightless. Her bow danced over the strings, the wavering getting stronger. Her eyes closed and she began to sway with the music. She knew others would see this as showing off, but she couldn't help it. Her portion was a good two minutes long before the Maestro led her to the cut off. She finished with a flourish and lowered the violin to her side. She stared at the floor, embarrassed at her behavior.

Annabelle's head came back up when she heard soft applauding. Her Maestro was smiling at her. "That was beautiful. Absolutely amazing emotion. Young lady.. Annabelle." His eyes had darted down to the roster to find her name before coming back to look into her light green eyes. "Please take the honour of first chair. The emotion you just expressed, along with your skill, gives you the possibility of expanding your horizons in this field."

Her cheeks flushed a light pink colour, but she bowed to him in gratitude. First chair… She had made it! Annabelle went back to her seat, her hand over the letter from her soon-to-be teacher. She made her choice. She will accept the Ghost's help in tutoring her.

That small movement of her hand did not escape the hawk eyes of Madame Giry. She was proud of the young girl. However, she did not know how Eric would react after hearing her audition performance. He was here, wasn't he? Madame Giry looked up into the rafters, managing to catch the edge of a black cloak disappearing into the shadows.

**Author's note: It will take a while for the third chapter to come up. I'm currently coming home from a deployment. No internet, but at least I can type out the story when I can.**

**Annabelle's violin placement solo can be heard here: .com/watch?v=aZjw9pN0kX0. Played by Joshua Bell: Bruch Violin Concerto "II. Adagio" G Minor, Op. 26**


	3. Be My Teacher

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, just my own.**

Chapter 3: Be My Teacher

Annabelle sat down on her bed, her eyes resting on a blank page of parchment. She paused for a second before finally putting her quill to the paper.

_"Opera Ghost,_

_ I accept your offer to tutor to me in my selection of instrument. Forgive me, but I am unable to speak. Please be patient for my responses._

_I hope to make you proud._

_ ~Annabelle"_

It was very brief, but it was all she could think to put down. She smiled and rolled it up carefully. A white ribbon circled it. 'Perfect' she thought to herself. She took into consideration of his previous student. She had been there, in the audience. His voice was beautiful. When his face was revealed, the audience members panicked and the stampede to leave had commenced. Luckily, she had been towards the back and had avoided the chandelier falling incident.

She placed the note against an empty vase. Then her gaze landed on a dusty book. Her fingers brushed the dust off. Underneath the thick layer was golden calligraphy, spelling out the word ERIC. Her heartbeat quickened. What could this be?

She carefully opened the folder. It was made of sturdy leather. Inside were symphonies as well as simple compositions. She pulled the pages apart with gentleness. She could see the Don Juan pages, as well as accompaniment to instructing a singer. Her fingers traced over the staff lines, wishing she could hear the notes being played on the organ. She kept looking. Finally, her eyes stopped on another composition.

With an eager feeling in her chest, she picked up her spare violin and plucked the strings to fit the notes. It was staccato, but still sounded sweet. She read the words below.

"_Wandering child, so lost, so helpless,_

_Yearning for my guidance._

_Too long you have wandered in winter_

_Far from my fatherly gaze…"_

Her fingers faltered for a second, her eyes scanning down the page to the end. Her keen hearing picked up the sound of rustling fabric. She looked over her shoulder, but all she saw were her drapes rustling in the breeze from the window. She picked up her bow for the last part.

"_Come to me strange angel."_

Eric had hidden in the shadows of the two way mirror after leaving his works on her dresser. He didn't know how this new girl would respond to his letter. His heart almost fell when he saw her pause before writing her response, but the smile calmed him when she had finished. He watched her as she picked through the papers with care.

She was the opposite of the singer. He could see the fire when she played, unlike where Christine had been docile when she was on stage. Christine... He saw her standing in the room, her face lighting up when she heard his voice. Her good-bye kiss to save the life of the insolent boy. Her disappearing form on the boat, never glancing back. He shook his head in anger, trying to rid her from his thoughts.

The tune of Wandering Child was bittersweet. He had written it as a reminder to Christine of who he really was. But she had gone back with the boy, ignoring everything he had done for her throughout the years. He turned his attention back to his new student. Hopefully she would be different. _"Come to me strange angel…." _He could hear the words mingle with the soft high note.

Before he could stop himself, he sang out softly. "I am your Angel of Music. Come to me Angel of Music…" He tried to keep a fatherly tone, trying hard not to suddenly frighten her. Her response was interesting. She flipped to another page. He recognized the song instantly.

"_Angel I hear you, speak I listen._

_Stay by my side, guide me._

_Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me._

_Enter at last, Master."_

He had written the tune down. Though a verbal response was what he had expected.

"_Flattering child, you shall know me._

_See why in shadow I hide._

_Look at your face in the mirror._

_I am there inside."_

Annabelle's body shook with excitement the moment she heard his voice around her. She played out her response, hoping that he wasn't an active part of her imagination. When he sang again, her body felt light. Following his instructions, she went to the mirror. She saw him emerge like the ghost people claimed him to be.

He was even more impressive in person. The mirror was over seven feet tall, five feet across. The frame was silver and decorated with intricate flowers and vines. He was roughly six foot two, dressed in a black suit and his traditional mask in place. She blushed when she saw his blue eyes examine her from head to toe. It wasn't sexual, just appraising.

His voice was a deep baritone. "Do not be afraid, young one. I am not what the masses claim I am."

Annabelle stayed transfixed onto her spot before smiling and nodding. She had heard about the infamous two way mirror that had been found when the mob went to go and try to kill him. Carefully, Annabelle placed her instrument on the bed. She picked up her note from the dresser and held it out to the mirage of the Phantom. Just like a spirit going through a wall, his hand came out and grasped her note in a gloved hand.

She waited, her hands behind her back like a soldier waiting for a command from their general. She could only hear the parchment being unrolled and his gaze lowered briefly.

"You cannot speak?" Even though it saddened him to an extent, it made him happy at the same time. She wouldn't have the urge to sing. She wouldn't be able to say empty promises. He sighed softly instead of releasing the growl. He smiled reassuringly when he saw her crestfallen look. "No dear, it's not a bad thing. Though, how are you unable to?"

He realized that he could just ask Madame Giry, or perhaps look through her records that were in the Maestro's office. More than likely, he would do that later in the night. It would be wise to read his notes to find out where his student was.

Annabelle looked down at the floor. The silence stretched on for a bit. "I apologize; it was a brash question to ask." His apology made her head come back up. "I will leave you for the night. Tomorrow, we will begin with your tutoring sessions for the coming concert. I bid you a good evening."

He went back into the shadows; his hand gripping the white ribbon. He was angry at himself. She, as well as the rest of the world, knew about him and his 'reputation'. She could be frightened that he would try and kill her. Perhaps that was why she refused to speak. He almost threw the ribbon into the sewer water, but he stopped himself. He spoke out loud, a normal tactic when he was trying to sort out his thoughts. "No… Shouldn't jump to conclusions. There has to be a reason."

He turned down a passage. It was time to pay the Maestro's study a visit.

Annabelle saw him disappear as if he had never been there. She sighed and sat down on the dresser chair. Her hand brushed over the ribbon around her neck. She had to admit, she was embarrassed about the incident. Her mother had made it a point to tell her every day that she would never be pretty enough to hold a man's attention. Now she had the famous Phantom of the Opera as her teacher. But, he was still a man. If he knew, perhaps he would find her revolting and stop her lessons.

She lowered her head into her hands. She took a couple of deep breaths. How could she tell him of this?

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, but it's great to be home! I apologize if it's too short, but didn't have a lot of time.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**


	4. Finding the Facts

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 4: Finding the Facts**

"Lift up your elbow a bit; it will be easier to keep your form." Annabelle nodded and did her adjustments. The Phantom circled around her again. Honestly, she was starting to get a little dizzy from his antics. His gloved hand grazed the small of her back. "Good, your back is still straight." He picked up a small binder and glanced at it. "Now, the facts."

The night before, he had broken into the Maestro's study as planned. Eric had been pleased with his notes beneath her family history. 'Very talented' 'minor adjustments' and 'becoming a tutor to the newer violin members, as well as trying out other instruments' were just a few he glanced at.

He came back to the present. "You have studied the violin, cello, flute and piano, as well as took waltzing lessons?"

Annabelle dropped her instrument briefly, nodded in agreement, before placing her violin back into place. Her tutor had suggested this so she could automatically go into a proper pose to play. He circled her once more, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face. "Tie this back during the performance. That way when you feel the music, your hair won't get attached to the bow." Eric pushed her elbow back up into position.

"Good. Very good."

Annabelle couldn't help but smile at his appraisement. She had woken up that morning to a white rose placed on her other pillow, a black ribbon holding a note around the stem. She had gone to breakfast with a bounce in her step after reading her first tutoring session was that night.

After receiving her music sheets, Madame Giry had ushered her back to her room. "The Opera Ghost will be with you shortly. He is a good teacher, but I still will warn you. Keep your hand at the level of your eyes." The warning had confused her greatly, but the excitement overwhelmed her bafflement.

Eric had emerged without her knowing, holding her violin out to her. Their session began with her form, and now was starting with learning her solo part. She was learning via staccato first, until she memorized where her fingers would be placed. The phantom leaned over her shoulder, saying the name of the notes as she plucked away. It was beneficial that callouses had developed on her fingers. She winced when she remembered seeing newer students' fingers getting bloody. Even after all these years, she could not stand the sight of blood.

He kept her going for a couple of hours before calling a break. She sat down at the foot of her bed. She had never known how hard it was to keep proper form until today. Bad habits die hard. The Phantom sat down beside her. He rubbed small circles on her back, helping her muscles relax. They sat there in comfortable silence.

"I am curious. Why do you keep half your face hidden?" Eric paused in his ministrations.

Annabelle breathed out heavily, her cheeks turning a light pink. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His blue eyes reminded her of the calm sea she had seen as a young child. Her mouth opened and closed, but she pulled out a sheet of parchment from her dress pocket. A quill was laid out on the bedside dresser.

She wrote out: 'It's just a style I like.' She held it out for him to read. He chuckled softly and went back to rubbing her sore back.

"A very simple answer. Are you… frightened of me?"

'No.'

"Then why can't you say it?"

Her quill paused for half a second. 'Medical reasons.'

He noticed the pause, but accepted her answer. "I have an idea." Eric quickly stood up and pulled out a new page of sheet music, dotting out notes on the five lines. Annabelle still sat on the bed, watching his back while he wrote.

"Here." He presented her a few tunes. Annabelle took them gratefully, looking them over. "This can help us communicate. Each tune has the lyrics beneath them. That way you can play when you need me and I know what it is you need." Annabelle placed the music next to her and jumped up, hugging him tight in gratitude.

Eric stiffened. He was not used to contact at all, and now his new student was making it harder to breathe. He struggled to take a breath in and tapped her shoulder. She stepped back, her smile beginning to fade a little. He saw the familiar look in her eyes. She thought she had made him disappointed in some way. His glove was removed and he finally felt her soft locks. It felt like a silk waterfall in his palm.

"Just know, you made me proud today with your diligence and quick learning." He saw her face brighten back to happiness. "I'm not used to such… contact with people." Eric pulled her in close the moment he felt her trying to pull back. "Shh, it's okay. I do not mind you showing me gratitude. People rarely do any more."

Annabelle had pulled back far enough to look at his face as he spoke. Gently, he started to brush her long bangs hiding her face. She surprised him yet again when she suddenly wrestled her way out of his grasp. This girl was just full of surprises. Though, it did remind him of how he reacted when Christine had pulled his mask off.

Annabelle turned her left side away from her teacher. She had thought her hair would stay in place, which it had, and didn't bother putting on her eye patch. The vision was a little blurry, but she had learned to ignore it after a while. The scars still looked raw. She didn't want him to see her like that. As strong as she felt at times, she was extremely self-conscious around males.

Eric still stood there, just watching her reaction. All the thoughts were visible on her face. Something was wrong, but she couldn't, or didn't, want to tell him. He took a small step back. Eric decided then and there to let her tell him at her own pace. He smiled passively and let his hands fall to his sides. "I will be back tomorrow night. You did very well this session." He bowed slightly and took his leave through the two way mirror.

**Author's Note: Well, two chapters on a flight back to the states made me happy. The next chapter will be up by next week.**


	5. Concert Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own**

Chapter 5: Concert Plans

The next few weeks flashed by as the date of the concert approached. Annabelle's days were filled with stage practices and her evenings with her tutoring sessions.

Annabelle smiled and laid back in her bed. It was an off day, courtesy of her mentor. Her eyes closed as she remembered the days events. Maestro had complimented her form. Ballet dancers were going to be introduced at the opening concert. A quarter of the stage had been set with chairs for the first chairs. The rest of the instrumental group was in the old symphony box.

The main concerto was a violin piece. The Maestro shuffled slowly across the stage, acting out where and how she was to move for her solo part. She did believe that it was simpler than what the dancers had to go through. Madame Giry was a compassionate female, but strict in her teachings. The dancers were panting, going through position after position. Annabelle knew her frame wouldn't be able to hold poses like theirs.

Her thoughts drifted to her teacher. A light blush went across her cheeks as she thought about his voice. Even when he was demanding in his tutoring, she held onto every word. It was no wonder that the Soprano had fallen for him as her angel. As much as Annabelle hated to judge, she couldn't stop the small ripple of anger on how the Phantom had been treated at the Soprano's hands.

The scene of Don Juan appeared in her mind's eye. _"Say you'll share with me one love.. one lifetime.."_ Her breath had caught in her throat. As soft as his voice was, the genuine love she could hear had touched her heart. _"Lead me, save me from my solitude.."_ He had delicately turned the singer in his arms, his words pouring out his wishes and affection. The screams from the crowd had shook her out of her reverie. A scarred face was bare to the audience. Subconsciously, her fingers raked over her eye and throat, ensuring her patch and ribbon were in their spots. _'I'm not alone..'_

Eric stepped out from the two way mirror just as his student curled up, going further into a deep sleep. Papers from his selection of operas for her ti study were strewn all around the bed and on the floor. He sighed heavily and picked them up, placing them back into their leather folder. He paused at her bedside. Her breathing was very light, her eyes shifting under her eyelids, which meant she was dreaming. He surprised himself when he noticed his fingers were going through her hair gently. He had done similar things when Christine was having difficulty sleeping.

He brushed her bangs away, lightly tracing her cheekbone. She had a very innocent face, but there was a sadness he could see. Perhaps he had been pushing her too hard in their study sessions. He breathed out heavily in a sigh. He pulled out a small strip of cloth and wrapped it around a cut on her left ring finger. She never made complaints, unlike Christine when he started to push her. Once out of her comfort zone, she shut down and got confused. He had found it a little charming, but now that he saw true fire in the willingness to learn.. He shook his head in the attempts to throw Christine Daae from them.

He brushed her hair back once more. He knew she would sleep past supper time. Perhaps, in appreciation of her dedication, he would prepare her something. Silently, he disappeared into the darkness past the two way mirror.

The next thing Annabelle knew, three of her five candles had burned out and the lingering scent of food came to her nostrils. She slowly sat up, supporting her weight on her elbows. Annabelle blinked quickly to see if she was dreaming. The Opera Ghost, the Phantom, was setting up dinner on a spare dresser top. His cloak quietly swished at every move he made. Her chest jumped up and down, as if she was giggling.

He turned the moment the heard the bed shift. "Ah, you're finally up little one. I thought I was pushing you too hard," his soft voice drifted to her. Annabelle was always surprised on how gentle he sounded, despite his size and reputation. He stood to the side, his hand gesturing to a chair he had brought from somewhere she didn't know. "Eat, little violinist. You slept through supper." Her stomach growled right on cue.

She stood up, her joints aching slightly from how she had been sleeping. The Phantom pulled her chair out as she approached and pushed it in. On the plate was fresh vegetables and a lamb rack. She noticed the paper and quill already set up next to her silverware.

She neatly scrawled out: _'Did you make this?'_

He smiled as he stood by, reading over her shoulder. "Yes. Enjoy it, little violinist. I will take my leave." He turned sharply and left the room, his cloak swirling around him.

Annabelle watched him as he suddenly retreated. She sighed softly and pushed the quill and paper away from her. The fast exit confused her a bit, but her stomach demanded attention as it growled again. The meat almost fell off the bone. Happily, Annabelle dug into her meal.

Eric watched her through the dresser mirror, ensuring that his little violinist enjoyed her meal. He let a rare, small smile escape. He hadn't smiled like that since… Well, Eric couldn't even remember. Taking in a small breath, he sung out _"Can you make my song take flight? Help me make the music of the night…"_ He disappeared back to his grotto.

Author's Note: I apologize for the delay. I had a bit of writer's block. Next up.. The concert, with a surprise visit.


	6. White Petals

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Phantom of the Opera, only my characters.**

**Chapter 6: White Petals**

The day of the concert had the entire building scurrying around in preparation. Annabelle woke up to a single white rose on her pillow, a silk black ribbon tied in a perfect bow. She smelled it and smiled. Once it was placed in a vase. She quickly got up and went off to breakfast.

Annabelle watched contractors cleaning up the stage. Dusters got to all the seats, and the new chandelier was pulled off to the side on the ceiling and being polished. She was so caught up in taking in the scenery, that Madame Giry scared her when she suddenly appeared. "Calm down, my dear," Madame Giry murmured gently, turning her back to her room. "There will be a tune up after lunch. For now, just practice in your room. I will bring out your gown an hour before you enter the stage."

Eric stepped out of the hidden corridor the moment Annabelle closed her door. Her eyes met his and she looked to her violin case on her dresser. She pointed to it questioningly.

The Phantom nodded at her silent question. Quietly, he clicked it open, picked up her prized instrument and handed it to her. "We will continue your tutoring until tonight. Are you ready, little violinist?" In response, Annabelle squared her shoulders. After weeks of training, she finally got into her proper posture on the first try. He smiled in encouragement, placing her sheets on the stand. With the wave of his hand, she began to play.

Madame Giry overlooked the cleaning throughout the day. Her hawk-like gaze did not miss a thing. She had gotten her orders in the shape of a simple white parchment letter. A small smile came to her lips. She knew that Annabelle would be spectacular on the stage.

Lunch came around and the Phantom took his leave, allowing Annabelle to rest before her solo moment. She had hugged him in a quick goodbye, surprising him once again. He rested his mask against her head in a simple response. Annabelle smiled and released him back to the shadows.

Madame Giry was true to her word. Soon after the tuning on the stage by the Maestro, the students were released to get ready. Annabelle followed her Guardian back to her room. Madame Giry had a box in her arms, so she opened the door for her. Annabelle tried to look over Madame Giry's shoulder as she opened the box and removed all the tissue. "Here you are, dear." Annabelle's eyes teared up a little as she saw the beautiful gown come into view.

Her shaky hands took the soft satin dress. Madame Giry looked on with an approving gaze. "It brings out the color of your eyes. Dress, cherie, and meet the Maestro at the west stage entrance for further instruction."

Stepping behind the dressing screen, Annabelle stripped out of her simple dress and slipped on the evening gown. It hung off her shoulders, and swept off to the side of her thigh like the flamenco-style dresses she had seen the dancers wearing. A soft blush went across her cheeks as she looked at herself in the mirror. With this outfit, she looked stunning.

Short heels went on her feet, and she lifted her hair up and out of her face. She almost cringed when the dog marks stood brilliantly out on her pale skin. Her eyes lowered to the desk. Despite how beautiful the dress was, it shouldn't have been on her. With a huff, she blinked back frustrated tears. Emotions were not going to ruin all that she had practiced for. Instead of placing her normal eyepatch, she placed a custom made half mask, in honor of her teacher. The black ribbon that had been on the rose stem that morning went around her neck for good luck.

Realizing that time was running out, she picked up her violin and bow, running quickly to the backstage. The Maestro's stoic face matched her's as she approached. "Your first performance. Make me proud." His morale was short, but it did lift his composer's spirits. Annabelle watched as the rest of the students went into place. The first and second chairs took their spots on the stage. She could see the dancers moving excitedly behind the curtain on the other side.

Several songs went past, different style's of dancing added to the music. One song went fast, adding the taste of Spain. She smiled nervously, waiting for her moment. There was a break after thirty minutes had passed. She was for the last dance, the final song of the performance. She was proud of the other students, just as her Maestro had to be.

The lights dimmed as the dancers came out on stage. They struck their poses, looking like two war clans squaring off. A single spotlight came on. Her shoulders back, Annabelle stepped out. Her heels clicked against the wooden stage floor. Applause met her as she stepped out into the light. She could see the Maestro. He tapped the edge of his stand to get their attention. With the movement of his hand, the orchestra began to play.

Madame Giry watched the performance from above the stage. She felt a presence behind her. "You have done a great job with her," she whispered, knowing he would hear. She disappeared back down the side stairs.

The waves of music rang across the concert hall. The Phantom watched Annabelle play. Her passion came out. Instead of standing like a statue, as most other players did, she swayed, her eyes closed. Her hair flew over her shoulders and her face as the crescendo continued into her solo, allowing the other players to change their sheets. The bows moved in synchronization, moving as the dancers did with their war dance.

The organ added a simple touch into the background. The fire lit around her as she continued to play. Her fingers danced across the strings, making the scale into a complex beauty. With a low, final note, she slowly lowered her instrument and bow. Loud applause met the end of her song. She bowed slowly in appreciation.

Annabelle's eyes noticed something slowly falling to the floor. At first she thought it was a feather, until she saw another joining it, and another. She stood to her full height, looking up into the lights. White rose petals were falling from the rafters. A hot blush ran over her cheekbones. It was from her tutor, and he was pleased with her performance.

**Author's Note: The song for Annabelle's first concert can be found at ' watch?v=laGT9IB2bFo', Joshua Bell-The Four Season's "Summer" III. Presto**


	7. Uninvited Guest

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

Chapter 7: Uninvited Guest

Annabelle was surrounded by a crowd in the mingle room. She clutched her violin case to her chest, unsure of what to do exactly. Men and women of high class were walking around, speaking to dancers and other staff. Madame Giry luckily noticed her feeling uncomfortable from across the room. Crossing the area with long strides, she gripped her lightly on her upper arm. "Go to the room dear. Someone wishes to speak with you."

With a small nod, Annabelle wove her body through the throng of people back to her room. Silence greeted her the moment the door closed shut behind her. She blew up several wisps of hair off her face. Her violin case clunked softly on the chair.

A soft voice came from the shadows. "Bravo, bravo… medie meseemo.."

Even though her fingers shook from the strenuous playing from that evening, she strung out a soft tune in response. '_Angel of Music, guide and guard me. Grant me to your glory. Angel of Music, hide no longer. Secret and strange angel.'_

He stepped out from the shadows behind her dresser. She tilted her head to the side in confusion. '_Another secret entrance?'_ She thought to herself. A small, proud smile graced his lips. Used to her bouncing happiness, she placed the violin on her comforter and hugged him tightly in excitement.

Eric's breath caught in his throat for two reasons. The first one was seeing her turn in the candlelight. It made her hair look like black satin. The dress hung on her body, making her look like the muses' of old. The second reason was because the air was kicked out of his body. Even though she was small, she had a grip that made him feel like his spine was going to crack.

"Dear… dear, can't breath.." He tapped her shoulder in quick strokes.

Annabelle released him and took a step back. Her mentor was in his usual suit of black, cloak and mask in place. He took a few quick breathes before moving back to his full height. His blue, piercing eyes reached hers for a split second before she looked automatically down to her feet.

He gently placed his hand under her chin, tugging her head back up until her eyes locked with his again. "Do not be afraid to look upon me. I will not hurt you." Though his face was stoic, Annabelle could hear the smile trying to come out. "You made me very proud today, my little violinist." His fingers grazed up her cheek.

Annabelle's eyes could only focus on the blue. Everything else became dark, and her skin went on fire. She took a shake step forward, leaning her face against his palm.

The Phantom was definitely not used to this type of affection, or trust. Even Christine had been afraid to touch him. Now she had taken a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. His hand moved from her cheek to the side of her face where her bangs covered her skin.

She yanked back from feeling her hair move just as a knock on the door came to their attention. Annabelle blinked and suddenly, her Phantom was gone. She could feel his eyes on the door. If she could put a sound to the tension, he would be growling like a feral dog.

Taking in a quick breath, Annabelle calmed her racing heart. She quietly stepped to the door. Slowly, she opened it on its slightly creaky hinges.

A beautiful woman stood in the doorway. Her hair was pinned up so the curls fell back over her shoulders. A simple, white gown gave the appearance that she was an angel. Then her face clicked in her mind. 'The Vicomtess de Chengy…'

"Miss Annabelle Firestrom, yes?" Annabelle could only nod in astonishment and immediately curtseyed. Christine smiled and gave her the motion to rise. "May I come in?"

Annabelle stepped to the side. Christine appeared to glide inside her room. The tension appeared to grow with each step she took. The Vicomtess turned around and smiled at her. "I know you cannot speak, so," Annabelle was handed a piece of parchment, "I brought you this so you don't waste yours." She sat down on the dresser seat.

"You played beautifully tonight."

Annabelle dabbed her quill in the ink well. '_Thank you.'_

Christine leaned forward a little bit. "Who taught you?"

_'My father hired a tutor. I've learned a few instruments.'_

"I see. Miss Firestrom, have you heard of the Phantom of the Opera?"

_'Yes, I have.'_

"You know that he used to come to this room?" The Vicomtess got up from her seat and looked around to the dark corners. "He used to sing to me, every night before I would sleep." A wistful tone came to her voice.

_'I heard he was just a legend.'_

"Some believe he was. But he was real." She stopped at the mirror, lightly stoking it with her fingers. "Have you seen him at all?"

_'No ma'am.'_

Christine's eyes appeared to become dark. "I know he is here. You don't have to hide him."

_'I'm sorry, I haven't seen him, or anyone portraying themselves as him.'_

"Don't lie to me!" Her hand snatched the paper out of Annabelle's grasp. Annabelle lowered her hand slowly, confused and slightly afraid from the outburst. Christine took a slow breath and composed herself again. "I am.. I apologize, Miss Firestrom. I just.. After being away for so long, I just wanted to be sure he wasn't just in my head anymore."

Madame Giry knocked on the frame of the doorway. "Ma'am, your husband is looking for you. And Annabelle needs rest after her performance."

The Vicomtess smiled and nodded. "Of course, Madame Giry. It was good seeing you again."

"Likewise, Christine."

Madame Giry gave Annabelle an apologetic look before closing the door, leaving Annabelle alone once again.

She wasn't alone for long. Annabelle turned around to see her mentor standing near his second secret entrance. He walked to her with controlled calmness. He picked up the crumpled paper, then took her hands in his. "I apologize for my previous student's actions. She had no right to speak to you like that."

Annabelle sniffed quietly, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. Eric's gaze was as calm as the rest of his body, but at the sight of her tears, his eyes softened. Stiffly, he opened his arms to accept her. Annabelle pressed up against his chest and started to cry quietly.

He gently ran his fingers down her neck. "There, there.. She is gone. And I promise, I will protect you."

After a few minutes, she pulled away slowly. Her eyes were slightly puffy from her crying. She normally kept her composure, but she was not used to anger being directed at her for no reason. "I thank you for keeping my presence a secret."

She smiled softly and nodded, pulling away completely. He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Sleep well, my little violinist. I will speak to you again tomorrow."

She watched him disappear into the shadows once more. Exhaustion finally hit her. She slumped down on her bed. It felt good to cry and not be reprimanded. She breathed out softly, allowing the darkness of sleep to take her. That night, she dreamed of bright blue eyes and a soft voice singing her to sleep.

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry that it took so long to put this up. Been spending my leave with family and couldn't find time. Hope you enjoyed.**


	8. Author's Note

Author's Note

I sincerily apologize for not putting up anything for the past few weeks. Personal life asked for attention and then I had training to do for my squadron. It was irritating, but now life is back on track. Please stay tuned to read the next chapter. I'll have it up in the next few days. Thank you for your patience.

Yours Truly,

~SilverJackel


	9. Who's Is The Face In The Mask?

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom characters, only my own**

Chapter 8: Who's Is That Face In The Mask?

Annabelle slipped back into her room late that night. Her arms were filled with flowers from admirers. The night's concert had been a success. What she hated was the reception party afterwards.

It was after her final bow for a long skit paying homage to Amadeus Motzart's 'Queen of the Winter Night'. What had surprised her the most was when a beautiful vision approached the stage. The audience stood, applauding wildly. Christine Daae smiled humbly. The lights dimmed slowly as the candles were being blown out. The piano had done the introduction and went into the background as Annabelle's violin took over.

Christine's high voice rang out through the hall. Even though Annabelle felt a bit of jealousy of the attention she was receiving. She only hoped that her teacher was not watching.

Afterwards, there was a masquerade ball to honor the second year that the Opera Populaire had been open without an incident from the Phantom. Madame Giry had rushed Annabelle into a beautiful red, silk evening gown, with a black mask tied into place. She barely had time to breath until she was pushed into the crowd.

She mainly stood on the balcony, avoiding the patrons and high class members. Annabelle's gaze noticed a long shadow from the dancing hall come towards her.

"Madam, what are you doing out here?" A nervous voiced asked. She turned slowly to see a shy man step into the torch light. He tried to look into her eyes, but they stayed on his shoes. Annabelle tilted her head questioningly. His gold hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, a silver sun mask covering his eyes. She took a step back as he produced a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you. You played beautifully tonight."

Annabelle took them graciously. The air around her became chilled. It wasn't from the wind, but from a gaze on her. She curtsied quickly and escaped back into the crowd. She felt a little bad about leaving him, but she knew something was wrong. Christine suddenly stopped her in her path.

"Leaving, Miss Annabelle?" She held out a hand for her to dance. Trying to cover her panic, she carefully placed her hand into the Vicomtess de Chengy's grip. Her nails dug into the back of Annabelle's hand. "You did play beautifully tonight."

Annabelle nodded and smiled in thank you.

Christine pulled her closer, until her lips brushed against her ear. "Don't think you can lie to me. He. Is. Mine. No one will ever take my Angel away." She pulled away and looked her up and down quickly. Her eyes landed on the mask. Quietly, she sang, "_Who is the music of the shadows? Who's is the face in the mask?"_

Annabelle felt the edge of her mask begin to slide up. She grabbed the hand, twisting it back sharply, but subtle enough that the other dancers didn't notice. Christine growled and pulled back. "It was wonderful singing to your music."

Before Annabelle managed to escape the room, she heard the crowd quiet as the Vicomte and Vicomtess stepped to the top of the stairs. "We want to thank everyone for coming to the second year this wonderful opera house. I want to personally recognize a hardworking student here. Our wonderful Phantom-esque violinist, Annabelle Firestrom."

A low murmur echoed through the hall. She began to hear comments about the mask she had been wearing during her performances.

She picked up the hem of her dress to avoid stepping on it and rushed back to her room. She threw the flowers onto her bed and sat down at her dresser. She breathed out slowly.

The candles were blown out suddenly. Annabelle looked around the room. A hard grip landed on her forearm, yanking her off of her seat. Her body locked up in fear. "What were you thinking?!" an angry voice whispered from the darkness. "Have you been talking to Christine about me?"

Annabelle shook her head quickly, trying to pull her arm away from him.

"How dare you let her mock me? Everything that I have achieved.. Everything I had done for her, and she throws it back in my face! I curse the day I saw her in that chapel.." His grip tightened slightly before releasing her. Annabelle rubbed her bruised skin. He finally looked at her, using the moonlight pooling from the windows. "Is that.. my mask?" Annabelle gulped slightly. She had gotten the bone mask from Madame Giry, along with the red gown that had matched his outfit when he had made is appearance at Christine Daae's secret engagement party.

He stepped closer menacingly. "I asked you a question."

Annabelle nodded and looked to the floor.

"I see now, how everything is falling into place. You wish to mock me as well? You never let me see your face. Is it a way of wanting to see mine? What is it you want from me?"

Annabelle's eyes widened as he loomed over her. His voice was so soft, it sent chills down her back. _"Who is my music of the shadows? Who's is the face in the mask?"_

This was it. This was how he would become disgusted by her. Annabelle closed her eyes in surrender as the mask was ripped off her face.

**Author's Note: Thank you for being patient with me, my followers. I always hate being late when I set my deadlines. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	10. A Monster In Paris

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom characters, only my own. I do not own the lyric's of Erik's song "A Monster In Paris". Copyright to the movie "A Monster In Paris (Un Monstre A Paris)"**

Chapter 9: A Monster In Paris

Erik's breath caught in his throat. The mask slipped away from his now limp fingers. The girl in front of him now looked into his eyes with defiance. Three long scars started from her brow, over her eye and back to her ear. They looked so raw that they could have been applied yesterday.

Annabelle's tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. The figure of her mentor began to blur more. She untied the silk ribbon from around her neck.

He looked down further to see clear chunks of flesh missing from her slender neck. He instantly recognized the canine marks of a dog.

"I…" Erik's voice choked slightly. He felt just as he had when he was on the stage with Christine. Shock, with a hidden betrayal underneath. This is what she was hiding from him all this time? Now he knew why she wouldn't speak. But she didn't trust him enough with this secret.

Annabelle pulled further away from his loose grip. Her eyes never left his. There, he saw the reflection of her emotions. Hurt, anger, fear.

Erik stood to his full height, now unsure of what to do or say. "I…" The words would not come out.

She sniffled again and turned, rushing out of the room and into the bath area conjoined to it. The large door slammed and echoed into the silent room.

Still in shock, the Phantom quietly drifted away into the darkness of the shadows. He had to escape from this place, even if it was for a night. Raw emotions flooded through him. Perhaps a ride would soothe his nerves. Then he would figure out a way to apologize to his student.

Annabelle stayed on the floor of the room, trying to get her breathing under control. She had retied the ribbon around her throat. She waited a bit to ensure he was gone before opening the door. He was gone.

As relieved as she felt, she knew he would be back. The look on his face told her that he had not expected to see what he did. A small flame of hope lit up in her chest. Maybe he wasn't disgusted of her, and would come back. Until he did, she had to leave the opera house. Who knew when the Vicomtess would start knocking on her door and asking questions.

Placing her normal eyepatch into its proper place and securing a cloak around her shoulders, she creaked the door to her bedroom open. The echoing voices of the ball went through the hallways, but she knew she wouldn't be caught. She had snuck out of her old home so often that she had became one with the shadows.

WIthin minutes, Annabelle had managed to slide out from the kitchen quarters and out to the stables. Many of the guests' horses were being tended to. She saw that the beautiful white horse was gone, but she thought nothing of it. She clicked her tongue and a black stallion raised his head in his pen. She patted Cathal's nose affectionately. Her father had sent him to her from the family stables since he trusted no other.

She swung up onto his back and nudged his flanks. The air was cool and crisp, being the promise of rain. Annabelle didn't know how far she had ridden until she pulled back lightly on the reins. She looked over to see the the Seine glittering in the moonlight. She slid off his back and walked alongside him.

Annabelle closed her eyes, wishing that she hadn't come to this place. Perhaps it was better to have stayed home and learned to be a proper lady with no future. Cathal snorted and nudged her shoulder. All was peaceful for the time being.

The rain started to come down in a light drizzle. She smiled when she could hear a tune from the raindrops hitting the roofs and empty bottles littering the streets. She leaned back on a tree to avoid most of the water.

_"I hide my light inside a cloud of night,_

_ beneath a red scarf and chapeau.." _

Annabelle heard a soft male voice singing. She pressed closer against her steed's body to hide.

_"The pearl of my heart, locked within a shell._

_ To afraid to let it go, to let it show _

_ when all the headlines read for the whole world to see:_

_ A monster in Paris."_

Erik had his eyes closed, sitting on the wet grass. A large-brimmed hat concealed his face in shadow. He looked up into the rain, letting it mingle with the tear that managed to fall down his cheek.

_"I fall apart, I fall apart_

_ Apparently I did appear beneath the light_

_ Yes it was me_

_ A monster in Paris…"_

Images of the last night he while playing in Don Juan rushed through his mind's eye. They flew to Annabelle's smiling face after her tutoring sessions, her seeing her flee and slam the door in his face.

_"I hide my pain, inside a melody_

_ As if the notes I sing will set me free._

_ I keep all my dreams under a lock and key_

_ So afraid that they will fly away.. away from me_

_ A monster in paris…"_

Quietly, his voice gave way to the hard downpour of rain. Annabelle felt more tears of the night begin to fall. He sounded so hurt, and even more sad than before. She went back behind her tree and got back into her saddle. She smiled genuinely for the first time that night. She would write a song for him to let him know she still loved him-

She nudged her horse to start galloping to clear her head. Love? Where had that word come from?

**Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was watching A Monster In Paris and -M-'s voice kind of reminded me of the Phantom's. Here is the Youtube link: watch?v=8UBWczAK-2A It's not the original, but it still sounds beautiful. And if it so pleases, I would love the help of my readers to figure out what song that Annabelle plays for herself and then the Phantom. Live Long and Prosper ~SilverJackel**


	11. Getting The Plans

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

Chapter 11: Getting the Plans

"Where are we off to in such a hurry?" Madame Giry questioned confusingly as Annabelle dragged her down the hallway. Her sleeve was latched onto by the younger woman's fingers. Annabelle had an excited gleam in her eyes, almost going into a run. Even though Madame Giry was still in good shape after all her years of dancing, she had to catch her breath when Annabelle finally screeched to a halt outside the instrument storage room.

She bounced in happily. She gazed back at the older woman happily. "So what is it that you had to show me, cherie?"

Annabelle lifted up a guitar, loosening the strap to settle over her shoulder. It was still a bit dusty from not being used. She spread out sheets of paper. She plucked the strings playfully. Madame Giry looked down at the notes. Although her profession was dancing, she new how to read sheet music, as well as properly sing. She hummed the tune as Annabelle played.

"I never knew you could play the guitar." Annabelle's smile turned into a grin.

_'It's a song I wrote for my teacher. Do you think he will like it?'_ She scrawled out on the bottom of the sheet.

"Of course he will. I'll tell you what.. let me take this to the Maestro. He will probably let you play it on stage."

Annabelle went into thought for a minute before nodding excitedly.

Madame Giry smiled as she gathered the papers up. Annabelle sat down on one of the seats occupying the room. The guitar was now over her lap. She continued to pluck the strings. She hadn't picked up this particular instrument in a long time. Her grandfather had taught her after his trip to Spain when she was young.

She breathed out slowly, leaning back. She had not seen her teacher since hearing him sing next to the river. Honestly, Annabelle did miss him. She could still remember the shocked look in his eyes when he saw her scars.

Her eyes grew heavy. The guitar slowly slid off of her lap and onto the floor. She had the sensation of falling back as sleepiness began to take over. A warmth covered over her body and she sighed softly.

Erik smiled sadly as he placed the guitar on her dresser. His student was tucked into her bed. He had found her slumped in a chair in the storage room. Knowing it would hurt her posture, he gently picked her up and took her back to her room. His fingers lightly traced the designed on the guitar. _"Hm… I wonder why she had this."_ Hopefully she hadn't abandoned the violin because of him.

He tilted his head back, remembering the night he sat in the rain. He couldn't remember the last time he had sang like the way he did. Annabelle shifted in her sleep. He went back to her side, rubbing small circles on her back until her breathing deepened once more.

Annabelle was awakened by Madame Giry shaking her shoulder. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to think how she managed to get to her bedroom. "Good news, my dear. The Maestro was so impressed, he wants you to play your piece at the next concert!" Annabelle smiled and hugged her tightly.

Erik stayed hidden behind the curtains, listening quietly.

_'Is it possible to have a singer join in? I know we don't normally, but..'_

"I'll see what we can do." Madame Giry smiled and patted her shoulder encouragingly. "You're doing very well. Your teacher will be proud."

Annabelle smiled at the praise. She followed the older woman to see the Maestro. Everything was going to plan.

**Author's Note: Yes, I know it's very short, but I'll try to make up for it in the next few chapters. This is mainly just a filler as I try to fight this writer's block.**


	12. La Seine

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own. The song belongs to A Monster In Paris.**

Chapter 12: La Seine

It was the day of the concert. Annabelle was more nervous then usual. Her violin was the main instrument she had been trained to use. She strummed the instrument to ensure it was in tune. She still didn't know who the singer was, but hopefully they would have a softer voice like she imagined in her head.

The curtains pulled back and she stepped up into the lights. The Maestro smiled at her, his hands up. She plucked the strings once more, smoothly transitioning into the tune. Another light struck the stage. The Victomtess de Chengy was lit up in a beautiful black gown, contrasting Annabelle's silk white gown. Her finger's almost faltered on the chords, but she turned back to face the audience.

_He's resplendent, so confident _

_ La Seine, La Seine, La Seine _

_ I realize I'm hypnotized _

_ La Seine, La Seine, La Seine _

_ I hear the moon singing a tune _

_ La Seine, La Seine, La Seine _

_ Is he devine? Is it the wine? _

_ La Seine, La Seine, La Seine _

The crowd was surprised on how upbeat and different the tune was. Annabelle tilted her head back, her hair sliding back to reveal the half Phantom mask. She started swaying her body, more into the music than she was playing the violin.

_I don't know, don't know, so don't ask me why _

_ That's how we are, the Seine and I _

_ I don't know, don't know, so don't ask me why _

_ That's how we are, the Seine and I _

A shadow appeared behind Annabelle. The crowd began clapping, enjoying this new type of show. He stepped closer to Annabelle, a large chapeau covering his face from the light. She couldn't stop herself and turned to face the apparition, dancing to the song just as she had been taught by her grandfather. The male paused, tilting his head slightly. She could barely make out the smile as he joined with her.

_I feel alive when I'm beside _

_ La Seine, La Seine, La Seine _

_ From this angle like an angel _

_ La Seine, La Seine, La Seine_

Christine stepped closer to the edge , making her once more prominent. The male's voice mingled with her's in unmistakable harmony.

_I don't know, don't know, so don't ask me why _

_ That's how we are, the Seine and I _

_ I don't know, don't know, so don't ask me why _

_ That's how we are, the Seine and I _

He stepped to the edge as well, looking out over the audience. He and Christine almost appeared to square off. Christine sang first.

_Upon the bridge _

_**[My heart does beat] **_

_ Between the waves _

_**[We will be saved] **_

_ The air we breathe _

_**[Can you believe?] **_

_ Learn to forgive upon the bridge _

_That's how we are, the Seine and I_

Annabelle finished playing off the chords with the band. The crowd actually stood up and gave them a standing ovation. The Victomtess de Chengy curtsied and went to the male that had sang on the stage with her. She had recognized the voice that had sang with her. It had to be him...

Instead, in front of the audience, the male pushed the guitar to the side, pulled Annabelle up against his chest, and kissed her lightly on the lips. Christine stopped short, her hand up to her heart in shock. Annabelle froze, her eyes closing involuntarily. He pulled away slowly, his lips brushing her ear. "Thank you, my dear violinist."

**Author's Note: Yay, a nice surprise a the end. Okay, hopefully I can push through and keep writing. Thank you all for being so so so so patient with me.**


	13. Compromise

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 13: Compromised**

The crowd had gone ecstatic with what they called the 'stage kiss'. Her tutor had disappeared as soon as the curtain came down. Annabelle's feet were planted to the floor, her eyes glazed and looking at nothing.

Christine had stayed for a second and disappeared just as quick as the Phantom.

Annabelle was escorted off the stage to the excited chatter of the dancers.

"We didn't know you could dance like that,"

"That solo part was absolutely amazing!"

"The guy, is he your secret boyfriend?"

"Girls, leave her be. She has just done a great performance." Madame Giry pushed them to the side and ushered her into an empty dressing room.

Annabelle looked at her curiously, seeing the serious look on her face. "I don't have a lot of time. We must-"

The door burst open, a disheveled Christine standing in the doorway. "You bitch!" She started forward, her hand rising up to slap Annabelle across the face. Annabelle took a few quick steps back. She could hear the whistling of the hand going through the air. "What have you done to my Angel of Music?!"

"Vicomtess, control yourself," Madame Giry stated firmly, getting in between the young girl and the angry singer.

"She took him away from me," Christine accused.

"Christine, are you forgetting that you _left_ him for your _husband_? He is no longer yours."

"But he was mine. I want him to stay mine."

Annabelle was pressed back against the wall. Realizing that Christine's attention was off her, she scooted along the wall, trying to find the other door. A hand grabbed her upper arm and dragged her behind the drapes. Eyes wide with terror, she was forced to follow whatever was dragging her.

"Shhh, my little violinist. I couldn't bear to see you in that predicament. It's my fault." Erik's voice calmed her nerves almost instantly. He pulled her against him in a tight hug. It was still dark, but she wrapped her arms around his torso. He smelled like the beginning of a storm, and the earth beneath it. It comforted her like when she played music. He pulled back slightly and tilted her head up lightly with his fingers. His lips found hers. They weren't demanding, just gentle enough that she didn't feel overwhelmed.

She reciprocated, tightening her grip on his shirt. He pulled back a little, pressing his forehead against hers. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime . . .

Lead me, save me from my solitude . . .

Annabelle nodded and hugged him even tighter.

"Thank you.." He pulled away from her completely. "Come, we must return. Everyone in the theatre will be wanting to see you."

He led Annabelle to the mirror passageway, allowing her into enter her room safely. She heard the click of the mirror going back into position. A quiet knock came to her door as soon as she put her guitar and mask on the covers of her bed. She opened it and Madame Giry quickly entered.

Madame Giry looked to the wall behind her, but Annabelle could see the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "My position has been.. compromised. I am to give you this." A folded paper was between her fingers.

It opened crisply, a quill pen leaving the messages impression on its back. Her fingers brushed against them as she read. Her guardian looked at the floor. Anger was tapped down by the shock and immediate sadness in her chest. She crushed it and threw it to the ground. Her hands began signaling wildly, using the language she had abandoned for writing in the past year. Madame Giry grabbed her wrists. "I'm sorry, my dear, but there is nothing I can do."

Annabelle's breathing became erratic. Her knees buckled and she collapsed against Madame Cherie, crying into her chest. Her guardian gently patted her head in sympathy. "Everything has been arranged. Please... just don't fight this. It will pass, and you will be able to come back home."

**Author's Note: N/A**


	14. Going Back

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 14: Going Back**

Madame Giry knew a storm was coming the moment she opened her bedroom door. If looks could kill, Erik would have been able to kill off every person in Paris. "Where is she?" he demanded through his teeth. Giry smoothed down the front of her dress and walked past him. "Annabelle was sent away, for her own good."

Erik seethed quietly before following her, looking at her through the mirror. "When?"

"Last night."

"Why?"

"Please, Erik. Just let her go." She turned to face him. She viewed him as her little brother ever since she had helped him escape that wretched carnival. But even his temper could cause her to take a step back. She rubbed her forehead, warding off a headache. Slowly, her hand patted his shoulder. "Erik.. Her life was in danger. For her safety, I had to send her home."

Erik took a deep breath, his eyes closing as her words finally hit him. He could still feel the anger brewing beneath the surface. "Tell me. Did she go willingly?" Laughter caused his eyes to close. The crowds around his filthy cage, rotten food constantly hitting his skin when the whip wasn't-

"Dear god, no. That girl was gripping the doorframes as if her life depended on it."

He snapped out of his flashback. Little triggers still sent him back sometimes. "Giry, please tell me where she is. I just want to know that she is all right."

Madame Giry paused for a second. "You promise me, not to go and do anything crazy. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand." Madame Giry nodded her approval and scrawled out the address on a spare piece of paper. "This is her home. Be careful."

Erik disappeared through the hidden door behind her curtains.

Down in his hidden cavern, he pulled out map after map of the surrounding towns and their streets. With his quick calculations, Annabelle was a two day trip on horseback. He sighed and ruffled his hair. He hadn't noticed, but it had grown a lot since he began his tutoring with his violinist. It had started touching his shoulders, now was down to his shoulder-blades. He pulled it back into a neat ponytail and donned his traveling mask. It covered both his eyes like a thief's, but was a dark green.

Throwing rope, a few bits of food and a container of water, and another cloak into a spare saddlebag, he rushed up the stairs that led to the hidden tunnel beneath the stables.

Cesear stamped his hooves as the trap door opened. Erik climbed out lithely. He hushed his horse, lightly petting his neck. "We have to go and bring her back." Cesear nickered and pressed his nose against his hand, wanting a treat before the ride. Erik let one of his rare smiles come out. "I knew you'd want that." He fished an apple from his pack. Besides the sounds of his horse eating away happily and the owl hidden away in the shadows, everything was quiet. Erik saddled him and was gone with the winter wind.

Annabelle stepped out of the carriage, facing the beautiful manor before her. There was a light blanket of snow on the ground. She saw Mr. Jefferies, the old butler that ran the place. He was like an uncle she could confide to. He smiled and signed 'Welcome home.'

'I'll admit, I did miss this place.'

'Let us get you settled in, then we can talk.'

The rest of the servants took her bags in. Despite their protests, she carried her violin in its case, and the guitar strung across her back. Her house was decorated to demonstrate the wealth her family possessed, but it was still as quiet as ever. Following Mr. Jefferies upstairs, she placed her violin back in her old room. It was cheery like before. Flowers and plants were growing in her painted pots. The satin green comforter was draped over the soft sheets and pillows. Her books were still in the order she liked. The balcony doors were locked, but left the curtains back so she could see the snow falling.

'Where are my parents?' she asked when everyone else had left.

'They are at a banquet.'

'I thought they knew I was coming home.'

'They did. Your father wanted to stay, but your mother made him go.'

Annabelle sat down on her bed, exasperated. Besides Mr Jefferies, she really wanted to see her father and Mr. Hendricks, the stable master. If anything, she really wanted to spend time with the horses. She wondered if Erik rode horses. She had never asked him. The tears began to come again and she wiped them away. She might never be able to ask him now.

"It's okay Annabelle. Your father will be here by nightfall." Mr Jefferies voice was soft, but grated slightly. She smiled softly and nodded. He handed her her silk mask, the one she had made with lilies sewn into the sides. It was one of her favorites. 'Thank you' she signed. He bowed slightly and left the room to prepare the evening meal. She sighed and took off the mask she had gotten from Madame Giry. In its place went her homemade one. She laid back on the bed and felt her mask get damp as the tears began to flow. Coming home was for her own safety, but she didn't feel safe at all.

**Author's Note: I like the idea of Mr. Jefferies. I need ideas for a possibly suitor. Help?**


	15. Seeing Without Being Seen

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 15: Seeing Without Being Seen**

Annabelle drowsily raised her head from her pillow. At some point, she must have fallen asleep. The book she had been reading was now on the floor. She had been waiting for her father to come home, but the hour had gotten late. Slowly, her eyes focused to the room. The fire was still blazing happily in the fireplace. An older gentleman was sitting in the large chair, reading a book of his own. His eyes left the pages and landed on her.

"Morning, dear. I didn't want to wake you."

His daughter sprung off her place on the couch and crushed him in a fierce hug.

"Yes, I missed you too." He managed to gasp out. Over the years, he had become accustomed to her hugging strength. He pushed her back gently and set a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Was your trip all right?"

'Yes Father' Annabelle signed. Her father had learned the sign language she was taught, but responded to her using his voice.

"That's good. Everyone treat you well?"

'Yes. I even got a tutor.'

"A tutor? Has she helped you excel in your music?"

Annabelle smiled and lifted the guitar that was propped on the side of the guitar. She laid it across her lap to keep signing. 'He has taught me very well.'

"Him.. You were alone with a male?"

'Not alone like that. But he understands me.'

Her father sighed and took the guitar from her gently. "You know I support you in everything you do. You have a strong spirit like my mother did. And I am happy that you are home for the time being. Before your mother arrives, I need to tell you the reason we were gone. Your mother is trying to find you a suitor."

Annabelle froze. 'I don't want a suitor.'

"I know, sweetheart. But you're still young. You will have enough time to continue what you love before you have to settle down."

'But that is it. I don't want to with someone I don't know.'

"I promise that we won't make any rash decisions. If you find someone that truly cares for you, your mother will have no say in the matter."

Annabelle could feel the slight tension in the room dissipate. He sat next to her on the couch and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Now, let's get some food in you. You missed the evening meal."

Annabelle nodded, gave her guitar a light touch on the strings before following her father to the main dining area.

Erik tied his horse off int he woods surrounding the manor. His breath became a white mist every time he breathed. Annabelle was close, he felt it. Covering his stallion in a few blankets. he made his way up to the building. The first rays of the sun was beginning to break through the trees. He had rode Cesear almost nonstop to the small town Annabelle resided in. It was easy enough to sneak to the house. Unlike the usual wealthy homes, there was no surrounding gate. He pressed his back against the tree, peeking out.

There was a lush garden still in its prime during the weather. He recognized the Bengal Tiger Canna and could smell the Chinese Yellow Banana wafting through the air. They stood over the rest at their usual height of five feet. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage later that evening. He heard voices and hid back into the shadows of the trees.

Annabelle was skipping ahead of an older man that she resembled, possibly her father. An older man walked along side him, commenting of what had to be done that day. Her father would nod and make a few comments, but mainly kept an eye on his daughter. She was brushing the light dusting of snow off some of the flowers. A few of her fingers were bandaged. A small bit of pride grew in his chest. Even though she was apart from him, she still continued to practice.

Her father beckoned her to the back doors. A servant was setting tea out on a patio table. She smiled and sat down on the stone bench, dumping three cubes of sugar into her tea. The voices were quieter, but he could catch snippets across the garden.

"She wants to continue studying, but we'll need to find a governess."

"A governess, sir? She has had training to be a lady. There is no need for that."

"Yes, but my wife insists."

Annabelle lowered her tea cup daintly and made a quick sign.

"Yes, what about her tutor?" Mr Jefferies asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know... I'm not sure that it is proper."

"Sir, he did help her excel. You heard her playing the new instrument this morning. This man has taught her well."

Her father sighed. "I'll discuss it with her mother. Perhaps it will keep her thoughts away from choosing a suitor so soon."

Erik couldn't help but grin. It hurt his cheek muscles since he was not used to it. But now, how to hide himself until he is sent for. Things could not have been turning for the better for him.

**Author's Note: I've realized I'm making a slight personality change in Erik. I'll try to maintain the distant attitude in a future chapter.**


	16. True Feelings

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters**

Chapter 16: True Feelings

Madame Firestrom gritted her teeth, holding back a retort. Her husband was sitting back in his favorite chair. Scentiful puffs of tobacco drifted up towards the ceiling. "Is resorting to a tutor absolutely necessary?" she managed to snap out.

Her husband rubbed his eyes, trying to ward off the headache he knew was coming. "For the hundredth time, yes. Anna is too young to be courted-"

"Come now James, our daughter is almost seventeen-"

"-and her studies must come first. _You_ were the one that kept her in her room as a child after the accident."

"It was for her own safety."

"It was so you wouldn't have your reputation ruined by having a disfigured child!" Her husband was now on his feet, the knuckles of his hand turning white around his pipe. His voice remained steady. He turned away and faced the fire.

His wife sighed loudly and sat down on the now vacant seat. "You knew that she would not have a future. You decided to coddle her ridiculous hobbies and not try to teach her to be a proper lady."

"Do you think her being a proper lady would have solved the issue?" His voice was strained. "Our daughter is extremely talented. Not just in music and composition, but in her writings, her writing, her falconry. I took the shell you made our daughter into and made her do something for herself."

"And all that talent is wasted away because no one will ever take her seriously. For the love of God, no one would even look at our child. No matter how dainty her body is, or how beautiful she would have looked, it changes nothing now. I will get her a suitor as planned. One that only needs her for the home, not for appearances." She stood up and dusted of the front of her dress, preparing to leave.

"Give it until her eighteenth year. If a suitor has not approached of his own choosing, then we will hold your ball. Until then, let her continue to blossom into the beautiful woman she is." His wife left the room without saying a word. He knew she would listen to him, regardless of her temper.

He lowered his head and covered his eyes with one hand. He would have given anything to change that dreadful day. His daughter hadn't known that the dogs in the pasture were feral. She saw them attacking a foal and had rushed over, kicking them away. Her screams still echoed in his head. He went to the study's desk, trying to immerse in something else before the memory got worse. A few letters for the position of a tutor had been received. Quietly, he reviewed them.

Eric stood by the courtyard's doors, listening to the argument of Annabelle's parents. The respect of her father grew, seeing as he was the one to light Annabelle's spirit at her young age. The mother, however, would be an obstacle to overcome.

He tightened the sides of his cloak, even though he no longer felt the chill. He had stood there once the sun had disappeared, shadowing the entire courtyard in shadow. Erik hadn't meant to overhear the fight. Though he could see why her mother was reacting the way she did. It disgusted him to no end. Quietly, Erik disappeared into the trees, waiting for the letter that was to arrive for an interview. He looked back at the window that was in Annabelle's room. A strange emotion of emptiness filled his chest. It had been two weeks since the last time he had seen her. Before the feeling overwhelmed him, he faded into the shadows.

**Author's Note: Apologies for the the late (and short) chapter. Writers block is a horrible thing. But I have jumped that hoop once again. Next chapter shall be up very soon.**


	17. Before the Holidays

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 17: Before the Holidays**

Annabelle trotted past Mr. Jefferies, a bundle of red amaryllis flowers clutched in her hands. Just as it had been for the past few weeks. He had grown up Pagan, but the festivities of the winter holidays always brought a smile to his face. Helping raise Annabelle had been no exception. With the permission of her father, he had introduced the Celtic pagan ideals of is ancestors. Anabelle had been sad when she couldn't continue being an animist. She even believed that all aspects of the natural world contained spirits, and that communication was possible.

With her voice gone, Annabelle had started helping him maintain the shrines to the animistic deities. Her face had brightened, much to the disapproval of her mother.

Annabelle placed the flowers in another empty vase. A servant curtsied and rushed away with it. It had been like this all morning. Trying her best to help out before the Winter Ball, she had resorted to picking all the flowers and decorating the Christmas tree. Her mother would not have approved of her doing servants' chores, but she liked to help out nonetheless.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Mr. Jefferies staring off out the window. She knew he was looking at the nearby stream that cut through the courtyard. It had been a long time since she had tended the shrines. Perhaps she would do that after the interviews this afternoon. Her mother had claimed to be busy supervising the food preparations instead of listening to idle prattle of people she believed to be way below her station.

Another few bundles of flowers later and Annabelle greeted her father in his study. She could see the stress written all over his face. He still kept all the pressure of her station along with his own, just to ensure her happiness. She smiled and hugged his side as he rifled through his paperwork.

_'Hello, father.'_

He slowly smiled back and placed the paperwork away. "Maria, bring in the tutors one at a time," he called out to a servant that was passing the door.

"Right away, sir."

Her father stood up stiffly after sitting in his chair for hours. She took his offered arm as they walked quietly to the parlor.

_'After this, I want to go to the river shrine.'_

"Going to go with Mr. Jefferies?"

_'If he want to. I haven't been to the shrines in a long time. I miss it.'_

"Quite understandable."

They entered the parlor. Annabelle sat down at the seat closest to the fire as her father sat on the sofa next to her. A welcoming seat for the tutors was across from both of them. She had opted for keeping her mask off, but her hair carefully positioned to hide the disfigured half of her face. She felt more comfortable keeping her mask off while in her home.

The door opened and a servant curtsied. "Sir, the tutors are here."

"Good. Send them in."

Annabelle's posture was starting to hurt her lower back. It had been over two hours of interviews and so far no one was meeting the criteria. Her father was starting to look equally as tired. He sighed as the interviewee left, tossing their criteria into the fire.

"We have just one more. Hopefully this is the miracle that keeps your mother away for a while," he joked.

_'I agree with you.'_

The doors opened and a figure in a cloak stepped inside. By the size, Annabelle could tell it was a male.

"State your name."

"Erik Daroga." A soft voice said from under the hood.

Annabelle's heart began to race. She knew that voice.

"Ah, yes. The last for position of tutor. Please have a seat."

The male bowed slightly and entered fully, the door closing behind him. His steps were confident as he approached the chair. The cloak billowing around his body, he settled into the chair.

"Would you remove your cloak, sir? It is very warm in here."

"No, monsieur Firestrom. My body is still chilled from the trip here."

Annabelle's father simply nodded. He looked down to the form in his lap."Mr. Daroga, it is written here that you had many jobs throughout your years?"

"Yes, monsieur. I was taken in my gypsies, which led to the many trades I have learned."

"Your parents were gypsies?"

"No, I was orphaned."

"What are the trades you believe you can continue to teach my daughter?"

"I have become proficient in horseback riding, music, literature, and a few other things."

Annabelle nudged her father's arm to stop him from asking questions. _'Good sir, would you please remove your hood. I would like to see upon your face.'_

"My daughter cannot speak, as you must know. She asked for you to remove your hood. She wants to see your face."

The figure hesitated for a second, and then reached up for his hood. "As it pleases my lady." It slid back from his face. Annabelle's face grew red as she gazed over at her Opera Ghost. His hair was pulled back like it always had been. A piece of cloth was tied around like an eyepatch, but covered half his face.

Annabelle's father looked from his daughter to the tutor in front of them. "Why do you cover half your face?"

"Working accident when I was an architect, constructing the Mazenderan."

"I do apologize for your situation."

"I have grown to accept it, monsieur."

Annabelle finally pulled her eyes from Erik and started signing quickly. Her father responded in turn, making it appear as if it was a private conversation. Erik waited patiently.

Her father nodded once and turned back to him. "We can have your quarters set up within the hour, if you accept this position."

Erik looked into Annabelle's dark green eyes. There was no pressure from her, as if he was free to leave if he so chose to. He stood and stepped towards her. Her father made a move to stand, but Annabelle took his hand in hers, making him stay put. Erik knelt before her and placed his hand over his heart. He spoke a foreign language, but there was strength behind it. He took her free hand and kissed her knuckles softly. "I shall teach you, protect you, honour you until you dismiss me or until the day I die."

**Author's Note: So, I looked up Erik's history and, in a way, he wasn't completely lying. Will his past finally come and catch up with him? Or should I make something romantic, then tragedy? I haven't decided yet.**


	18. River Gods

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own**

Chapter 18: River Gods

Erik's cloak remained in place as he followed the servant to his new quarters. The hallways were lit with elaborate colored candles, throwing off a welcoming hue on the walls. This house had been made at least 50 years before judging by the architecture. Paintings of the family stared stoically from their frames. He paused at a newer one. It still smelled of the oil paints that were used. Annabelle's soft face was hidden by her hair as she stared out a window.

In his opinion, the artist had created a masterpiece. The contours of Annabelle's body was perfect in the burgundy dress she was wearing. The expression on her face looked dreamy, as if she was wanting to fly out of the room she was in.

Erik stopped his hand from coming up to stroke the hem of her gown. It would be horrible to ruin the painting just with the oil of his fingers. He took in a slow breath, then releasing it just as slowly to stop his heart from beating so hard.

"Monsieur Daroga?" a voice trembled from further down the hall.

Erik shook his head to release his swirling thoughts. "Yes?"

"We are here at your room. Everything was made to your liking by order of Lady Firestrom."

Erik walked in and was genuinely surprised. Heavy black drapes were pulled open to reveal balcony doors. Outside, he could see the tops of the trees and the sparkling moonlight off the river. A large canopy was off to the side, the same heavy drapes tied off onto the corners of the bed frame. Adjacent to the bed was a working desk stacked with fresh ink, paper and quills. But the next thing he saw made him freeze. It was a grand piano imported from Italy. He stepped closer and pressed a key.

A light note drifted through the air, resonating around the room. It swelled sharply, then dissipated like clouds with the wind. His eyes drifted closed.

"Monsieur? Is everything to your liking?"

Erik opened his eyes. "Yes, everything is perfect. Where is Lady Firestrom? I want to thank her personally for these accommodations."

"Last I was told, my Lady was going with our pagan butler to the river."

"I see. This will be all, madam."

The servant curtsied and all but ran from his presence. He was used to the effect that he had on some people.

Cloak still in place, he pulled the hood up more and made his way down to the back gardens where the river was. An odd sense of foreboding kept moving in his chest. Anger was licking up the edges of it. It took Erik a minute to place it, but this must have been the feeling of…. Jealousy. He hadn't felt that since Christine had planned to go out for the evening with the Vicomte de Chengy. He rubbed his chest as he kept walking.

Who was this butler? Did he feel anything for his Annabelle? He probably did since the hour was late and they were meeting at the river. He did the breathing exercised Madame Giry had taught him to relax. It quieted the doubt and anger in his mind.

Annabelle was the first person he saw. She looked like a goddess of the water. She was standing knee deep in the river, the sky blue dress she was wearing clinging to her legs. An older gentleman was whispering softly to the flowing water. Annabelle turned, white flowers tied into her hair. Slowly, she unbraided her hair and placed the flowers into the water. The last one went to an alter on the bank. She signed and the older man helped her step onto the soft grass.

"Lady Firestrom?" Erik called out, not wanting to spook her. She looked around until she saw him emerge from the tall grass. She smiled and said something to her companion before running over to him. Up close, Eric saw that she must have dived into the water. Every part of her dress clung to her skin. The ends of her hair were still dripping.

With a sigh, he removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. She clung onto it, the smile still not leaving her face. The older man stepped forward. Eric eyed his demeanor. He simply bowed at the waist. "Mr. Jefferies, at your service Monsieur Daroga."

"So, you are the pagan the servants speak of."

Mr Jefferies came up from his bow. "Yes monsieur. Lord Firestrom allows all faiths into his household." His voice was tight.

"I meant no disrespect. I was raised by gypsies, so I know of the Pagan faith."

Mr. Jefferies looked at Erik slightly different. Annabelle watched the conversation with interest until a small sneeze was muffled into the cloth.

Erik rested his arm against her back and whispered "Trust me," before leaning down further, his other arm underneath her knees. She flailed in surprise, but relaxed into his body. Her head rested on his shoulder.

A warm feeling went through his body as he looked to Mr. Jefferies. "Lead us to her room, before she catches cold."

"Yes, monsieur." He shuffled away. Erik followed, tightening his grip on Annabelle as they went up the stairs. Annabelle's eyes had drifted closed by the time they reached her room. He was surprised that her room was only a couple of doors down from his.

The room was dark, but Mr. Jefferies lit a candle. Her walls appeared a dark green colour. He laid her down onto her bed. Mr. Jefferies left quickly. When Erik tried to remove his cloak, she clutched onto it more and shook her head. Erik only nodded, and turned his back when the warmer clothes Mr. Jefferies had laid out were now covering her. She whistled to signal that she was decent.

The wet dress was draped over her chair. She was buried in the covers up to her eyes, her body curled up around his cloak. He laid his hand on her head. Her eyes closed as he stroke her hair.

_"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon the defenses_

_Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender_

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night."_

Her grip tightened on his cloak as her breathing became even. Erik pulled his hand away slowly. Blowing out the candle, he headed to the door. He paused and turned to look at her one last time for that night. Her body was silhouetted by the moonlight pouring through the window. Erik watched her just breath for a few minutes more.

_"You alone can make my song take flight_

_Help me make the music of the night"_

The door closed softly with a click.

**Author's Note: So, there is the more romantic side. I have listened to the reviews and I won't making anything tragic happen. Yet. I'll let the love flow, and probably give Christine her chapter, before she receives a swift kick to the face. Haven't decided yet.**


	19. Moonlit Kisses

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 19: Moonlit Kisses**

"And one, two, three. And one, two three. Keep the pace up."

Annabelle stuck her tongue out in concentration.

Erik's fingers squeezed lightly at her waist. "Remember to follow my lead." He turned slightly to the side, her hand grasped in his. Her body was pushed back, following his arm. The hem of Annabelle's dress drifted off the ground as she twirled in a circle. "Perfect."

Her body became flush against his chest. She mouthed the numbers, trying to keep in step with his stride.

A interrupting cough came from the door. Erik stifled a growl and stopped in his movements. His student was so into the dance that she stumbled over his still feet. His arms tightened around her protectively. His cold blue eyes went to the main door of the parlor.

A servant was in mid-curtsy, her eyes on the floor. "A thousand pardons, Lady Firestrom and Monsieur Daroga. The evening meal is ready. Lord Firestom has asked for your both your presences."

Erik steadied Annabelle on her feet. "We will be there momentarily." The quiet swishing of fabric told him the servant had disappeared down the hall. He turned back to her.

Annabelle was pouting. As childish as the look was, he felt the edges of his lips turning up in a small smile. He lifted her head up with a gentle push of his hand. "No worries, my student. You did fine this day."

_'But I just got the rhythm of the steps.'_

"If it will please you, we can practice after the meal."

Annabelle's eyes lit up in happiness. He offered her his arm. She took it graciously.

The walk down the hallway seemed to be a long one. Annabelle had to take two steps to every one of Erik's, but he slowed his stride so she could keep up. He watched her from his peripheral vision. She was wearing her hair loose today. It swayed with every step. Without thinking, she rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. A heat spread from the contact point and went through his torso.

He took a deep breath as they approached the dining area. He pulled away from her and bowed a bit at the waist. Wordlessly, he opened the door for her.

The dining room was sparkling. The china was cleaned to perfection. White candles were lit everywhere. A quiet murmur went through the room. Her parents were talking quietly amongst each other. Erik strode in and pulled back the chair to the left of her father. Annabelle sat down, smoothing her dress over her legs. He sat down next to her. She smiled and brushed her hand over his before starting to eat the first course.

"And one, two, three. One, two three. One, two, three…" Erik spun Annabelle around twice, resuming their three steps. Annabelle had stumbled a bit in the beginning, but she was doing a lot better now. He paused as she pulled away.

_'Will you.. sing that song again?'_

Erik raised an eyebrow in question.

_'The one you sang when I was going to sleep.'_

"Do you wish to dance to it?"

Annabelle nodded, looking down at her shoes.

Erik placed his hand on her waist, keeping the other up for her to grasp. They slowly began to sway.

_"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams_

_Purge all thoughts of the life you knew before_

_Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar_

_And you'll live as you've never lived before"_

Annabelle listened to the softness of Erik's voice as he spun her around gently. Her eyes drifted closed, feeling the reverberations of his voice go through her chest.

_"Softly, deftly music shall caress you_

_Hear it, feel it secretly possess you_

_Open up you mind let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness which you know you cannot fight_

_The darkness of the music of the night"_

Erik stopped moving her around the room. His voice became stronger.

_"Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world_

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before

Let your soul take you where you long to be"

Erik leaned in, resting his forehead against hers.

_"Only then can you belong to me"_ he sang softly.

Annabelle's eyes were wide. Erik pulled back, giving some space between them. He resumed the steps. Annabelle followed suit, matching his pace perfectly.

_"Floating, folding, sweet intoxication…"_

Erik twirled Annabelle around, stopping her with his torso touching her back. She leaned into his touch as his hands caressed the curves of her corset. His fingers linked with one of her free hands, bringing it up to his cheek.

_"Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation_

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in_

_to the power of the music that I write._

_The power of the music of the night"_

Annabelle could feel the slight stubble on his cheek. A strange heat began to pool at the base of her stomach.

Erik turned her in his arms. Annabelle was silhouetted by the moonlight spilling through the bay windows. It was just like the night when she had fallen asleep around his cloak.

_"You alone can make my song take flight._

_Help me make the music of the night."_

Tugging her closer to his frame, Erik leaned back down. The note continued on through the room. His lips pressed against hers. Annabelle pressed against him more, her arms circling around his neck. The kiss deepened until Annabelle's lungs start to burn. Erik pulled away first, allowing her to breath. Her eyes were glossed over, but she smiled.

Erik kissed her forehead. "We should sleep. The hour is late." Annabelle nodded, not really hearing him. Her heartbeat hummed in her ears as she felt like she was floating down the hallway to her room.

Oh, gods of the Celts. She was in love.


	20. Plan in Motion

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 20: Plan in Motion**

Christine ran through the entrance of the Opera Populaire. She shifted up her skirts as she went up the stairs. It couldn't be possible. It was not possible.

"Oh, Vicomtess de Chagny. How may I be of service?" Madame Giry's appeared in the archway leading to the seats. She curtsied slightly, never letting her eyes go to the ground.

The Vicomtess skidded to a halt, leaning against the stair railing. "I need to see my Angel."

Madame Giry came up from her curtsy. "The Phantom does not exist here."

Christine's eyes narrowed. "Madame Giry, take me to the Angel of Music."

"And I have just told you, he does not exist here." Madame Giry grasped Christine's wrist. She had seen the sheen in her prior student's eyes as she raised her hand to slap her. "Violence will not do anything to change the truth."

Christine's knees began to shake. Madame Giry's grip was still strong as she gripped Christine's upper arm in support. "Come with me."

Their footfalls echoed through the hallways. Christine's head was swimming. "Why…" She cleared her throat. "Why would he leave?"

Madame Giry led her into an empty room. "Because you threatened the girl." She let Christine's body sink into a soft chair. She went to the side table and poured water from a pitcher into a glass. She sighed softly. "I sent her home and he followed."

Her mouth went dry. Christine reached out for the glass and took a few gulps. "How long?"

"Up to the present? Four days past a fortnight."

Christine's eyes lingered on the floor. Her shoulders were slumped. "Does he…love her?"

Madame Giry sat in a chair across from her. "I do not know his feelings. But he does care for her greatly."

Christine's vision started to become blurry. Slowly, tears rolled down her cheeks. "I thought he was going to stay with me… forever."

"That was his intention at first, until he got a new student. Vicomtess, you are married to Raul. You have the life you wanted. I beg of you, leave Erik in peace."

Madame Giry knew that the Vicomtess was not fully listening. She had just curled further into herself. But she had to hear the truth. As much as she tried to stay out of people's personal business, she cared for Erik like a brother. Christine would be the death of him.

"I.. I understand. I have to go." She stood up slowly, smoothing out her skirts. She left the room in a rush.

Madame Giry sighed and only prayed that Christine would do as she had asked.

_~Late into the Evening~_

The carriage rolled through the streets. Christine's hood was pulled up, keeping her face in shadow. The horse neighed quietly as the carriage came to a halt. She waited the appointed time. A knock came from her door. She opened it and a large male frame filled the space across from her.

Christine tapped side, signaling for the carriage to resume moving. An odd smell of spice wafted over her. She felt lightheaded, but still alert. "You asked for a meeting. How may I be of service, Vicomtess?"

Christine pulled a bag of gold from an inside pocket of her cloak. She tossed it over. "I have a job I want done. Instructions will come later. I want this _petite pute_ killed." She handed over a picture of Annabelle. "I paid half upfront. You will receive the last half when I get confirmation that she is dead."

The male nodded grimly. "Understood, Victomtess."

**Disclaimer: Short, I know. I will continue to keep writing through the chapters.**


	21. My Angel

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 21: My Angel**

Annabelle did a slight wheezing noise, her version of a silent giggle. She made the hand sign for: _'My gift is my song, and this one is for you.'_ Erik frowned a bit, trying to match her fluid hand movements. She wrote something down quickly on the nearby notepaper. _'You said: 'The gift of your breasts can only be for you. Watch again.'_ She slowed down even more, only moving on when he made the proper hand signs.

She nodded and smiled once he got it right. It was amazing that he could understand what she said, but had trouble signing it. He had came to her that morning, asking for her to teach him properly. Enthusiastically, she had been teaching him most of the day. Her tutor had had a few mix ups here and there.

A servant walked in, staying quiet as to not disturb the lesson. He prepared the tea just as the Lady liked. With a silent bow, he closed the door.

The soft click didn't escape Annabelle's ears. She smiled and signed slowly. _'I'm famished. Should we take a break to eat?'_

His face went into one of concentration. _'Yes, food will be good. Afterwards we can go out for a hawking lesson.'_

Her eyes lit up as she stood from her seat and went to get her cup of tea. It was imported from a southern Asia country. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the scent of soft spices. She loved the exotic tea her father kept buying.

She offered Erik a cup. He took it graciously, also noticing the scent. "I used to drink this.. When I travelled." Annabelle looked at him questioningly. "After leaving the Shah's service, I travelled over the vast lands. Worlds of sand, jungle, mountains. It was after a few years that I wanted to settle down."

Annabelle set her tea down. '_Would you tell me about them in detail?'_

Erik gave her a rare smile. "How does this sound? We will go out and give the horses some exercise, then I will show you maps of my travels."

Annabelle clapped happily. She took his hand and all but dragged him out to the stables. Her stallion whinnied, sensing her approach. Erik's steed was out in the pasture. They separated quickly to approach their rides. Annabelle had always loved riding bareback, must to the disapproval of her mother. Erik had been surprised the first time he saw her riding.

Opening the stall door, Cathal trotted out. She didn't even bother with reining him. Quickly stepping onto a step carved into the call, she pulled herself onto her steed. He began to gallop out into the pasture. Erik's steed reared up, excited to join into the run.

Annabelle smiled as she passed her tutor. Her hair hit hard against her back. She had forgotten to take it out of the braid. Cathal weaved through the trees, his mane flying back. Her hands gripped hard. Erik came beside her.

She looked at him. Even though his eyes were closed, he looked like the knights she used to read about. His body moved with his stallion's strides. It was perfect harmonization.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit Annabelle. She pulled back on Cathal's mane. He slowed to a soft trot. Her vision began to swim. Erik noticed her absence and turned his steed around. He jumped off, running to her side. Annabelle rested her head against Cathal's neck, trying to catch her breath. Her stomach clenched tightly, as if someone had punched it. The wave of pain receded.

_'It hurts. Everything hurts.'_ She signed quickly before another wave of pain hit her abdomen. Erik leaned over, measuring her breathing and placing his fingers against her neck to see how fast her heart was beating. He frowned. Her heartbeat was fast, but faint.

"Annabelle, focus on me." His voice was commanding. She tried to sit up and look at him. A bright light from the trees illuminated around him. Her heart felt like it had skipped a beat.

_'You are an angel.'_ she signed sloppily.

"I am not an angel."

_'But.. you have a halo.'_ Her vision started to dim. _'My angel…'_

Her body slumped off her horses back. Erik caught her easily. "Annabelle!" He laid her out on the grass, going through all the books he had ever read in his mind. Nausea, abdominal pain, hallucinations… What had she meant about seeing a halo? It clicked in his mind. "Foxglove. You were poisoned.." He gathered her in his arms. Her breathing was ragged, but she had not gone into seizures or had vomited, which meant the foxglove had been weak or not enough had been given to go through her system.

He held her close as his horse kneeled, allowing him to get on without letting go. Easing up, he spurred the horse back to the main house. He gritted his teeth. This was no accident. There was only one person he knew that would want Annabelle harmed, and only one person that had access to roots and poisons.

His old friend was back in Paris.

**Author's Note: A bit better than my last chapter. And things will only get better. Yay.**


	22. Promise Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 22: Promise Me**

Annabelle's eyelids felt heavy as she slipped out of the grip of sleep. There were hushed whispers in the room. A deeper voice drifted through the room. "…some rest. I assure you, she will be better by the morn."

"How could this happen?" Her father's tired voice responded.

"You're family is wealthy, and has a reputation to uphold. Enemies can surface from the most unlikely of areas. Have the authorities check the rest of your stocked food, and remove all remnants of tea from the house."

Orders from her father were quickly put into action. The shuffling sounds of feet scattered from the room.

"Lord Firestrom, I urge you to get some rest. I will wake you if anything changes."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

How late was it, for her father to sound that tired? Annabelle tried to move her hand. It felt like a heavy blanket was resting over her entire body. Her ears picked up the sound of the door clicking shut. Erik's boots clicked across the wooden floor.

The side of the bed dipped as it supported Erik's weight. She felt the callouses of his hand brush the hair off her face. Using whatever strength she had left through her body, she forced her eyes open. Erik leaned in closer.

"Don't force yourself to try and get up. You're body is still in shock."

Annabelle's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He took her hand in his. "I need to leave for a few days."

With her free hand, she slowly signed: _'Why?'_

"I promised to protect you, remember?" His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "I failed you. Therefore I need to regain my honor by killing the one who did this to you."

Very slowly, Annabelle managed to scoot her body back against the pillows to sit up. _'You'll kill her?'_

"Her?" The dark creeping into his voice gave her the answer she needed.

_'Yes. The one that threatened my life at the Opera.'_

"It is the only way to stop her obsession, and keep you safe."

Annabelle looked down at her lap. _'When will you leave?'_

"Once you are better."

_'Will you promise me something?'_

"Anything."

_'Promise me you won't kill her.'_

Erik stood up from the bed. "I cannot promise you that."

Her hands reached out to grip his wrist. He looked back to her. Annabelle's eyes were pleading. His hard gaze softened. _'Please.'_ she signed quickly. _'You can do whatever you want, but please, do not kill her.'_

Erik sat back down at her side. "Why do you care what happens to her?"

_'Because… I don't think she really is a bad person. She just has not accepted what has happened concerning you. Make her see, and she should leave you alone.'_

He sighed, but took her hand and kissed the back of it. "As you wish, my lady."

Annabelle smiled sadly, and tugged on his hand. _'Will you stay with me tonight?'_

"I will stay until you fall asleep." He stood, about to head for the nearby chair when he felt a tug at his shirt. Annabelle was shaking her head. He arched a brow. "No?"

She tugged harder, pulling him back to the bed's edge. With another pull, he fell over the side, catching himself before he fully landed on her body. "I see what you are trying to say," he murmured with a chuckle.

Annabelle scooted to the side as Erik kicked his boots off. He laid back on the pillows, tense like he usually was. She could feel the slight awkwardness of the situation. Her body shifted forward until she was pressed up against his side. His body tensed more. Annabelle began to retreat until he spoke.

"I'm not used to this."

_'What do you mean?'_

"This." He gestured to her and the bed.

_'You just gestured to all of me.'_

He laughed and rolled to face her. "I'm bad at explaining things." His face grew a bit more serious. "I grew up avoiding people. I'm not used to someone wanting to be near me for long periods of time. And if it was a long time, it was usually for beatings."

Annabelle tucked herself against his chest, an arm wrapped around his waist. She held even as he tensed in her grasp. She nuzzled his chest and breathed slowly, allowing him to relax at his own speed.

It felt like hours had gone by, but her tutor finally wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tighter against him. His body shook still. She tilted her face up and kissed him lightly. Erik reciprocated, running his hands down her back. The shaking began to subside. He rolled onto his back, keeping Annabelle tucked against his chest. She rested her head in the crook of his neck.

Erik continued to rub her back, lulling her to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling her ribs push against his stomach with every breath she took. He closed his eyes, memorizing the way her body fit against his. "Annabelle, you are a wonder," he said softly to the dark room.

**Author's Note: Almost m****ade it go in a different direction, but it's too soon for that. So, will Erik keep his promise? Or was it just to make Annabelle happy? We shall see.**


	23. I Denied You

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own.**

**Chapter 23: I Denied You**

Christine stared into the flames within the fireplace. A droning noise was in the background. She swatted at her ear, trying to be rid of it. The noise got louder, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. Annoyance rose in her chest.

A deep voice went through her mind. _'Christine…. Christine…'_

"Christine?" a softer voice murmured into her ear. Christine jumped in her seat. "You were daydreaming again. Have you heard a single word I was saying?"

Christine just stared at him blankly. He sighed and stood from the chair, walking over to her. Raoul pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. "Hm, you are feeling a bit warm. Perhaps you should go to bed early, my beloved."

He helped her from her seat and lightly pushed her to the direction of the door. "I'll finish the event planning. I should be up shortly."

Christine smiled and kissed his cheek lightly. Raoul turned and prepared to open a parcel that had been delivered earlier that evening. She left the lighted parlor. As she walked up the stairs, she thought back to the voice she had just been thinking about. In her bedroom, Christine kept the candles unlit. Ever since she had married her childhood sweetheart, she preferred the dark to the light he promised.

She sat in front of the dressing mirror, looking at all the expensive items Raoul constantly kept buying her. Fighting the urge to swipe them all off the table, Christine leaned back against her seat.

_"Can I ever forget that sight?_

_Can I ever escape from that face?_

_So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face_

_in that darkness…"_

She sighed and let the tears she had been holding back fall.

_"But his voice filled my spirit_

_with a strange, sweet sound..._

_In that night there was music in my mind..._

_And through music my soul began to soar!_

_And I heard as I'd never heard before…"_

"Christine…" A dark voice reverberated around the room.

"Phantom?" Christine jumped to her feet. Wildly, she looked around the room.

_"Christine…"_ A form seemed to materialized from the shadows.

_"Angel, I hear you._

_Speak - I listen . . ._

_stay by my side, guide me."_

Christine threw herself at the shimmering form. She instead crashed into the curtains hiding the post of the bed.

_"Angel, my soul was weak -_

_forgive me . . ._

_Enter at last, Master."_

"You denied me."

Christine turned to the window. Erik was silhouetted by the sinking sun. He was covered by his traditional black cloak. His hood was up, shadowing his face.

"My angel, I was not-"

Erik's voice grew loud. "DO NOT… call me your angel. I am not _your_ angel anymore."

Her eyes grew sad as she approached. He moved away from her grasp. "Angel of Music, why do you avoid me so? Your other student must be dead, or else you wouldn't be here."

"Quite the contrary. She is alive and well. I'm just here to deal with her threat."

Christine's eyes widened. "You surely don't mean me?"

He just stared at her as the light diminished to the night sky.

She rushed at him, kneeling before his feet and grasping the seams of his pants. "Another chance, that is all I ask of you."

"Interesting. I believe I had said something very similar to you." He pulled away as much as he could.

_"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime ..._

_Lead me, save me from my solitude ..._

_Say you want me with you, here beside you …"_

His voice quavered before crescendoing beautifully.

_"Anywhere you go let me go too -_

_Christine that's all I ask of …"_

His voice choked and he stopped the tune. Erik placed his hand into the deep pocket of his cloak, withdrawing with a pouch.

Christine's voice sounded tearful.

_"Angel of Music!_

_I denied you_

_Turning from true beauty._

_Angel of Music_

_My protector..._

_Come to me strange Angel…"_

Erik opened his arms to embrace her.

Christine wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tightly as his arms went around her waist.

_"I am your Angel of Music..._

_Come to me, Angel of Music…"_

Christine felt a sting hit her upper shoulder. "W-What..?" A warmth spread, the pain almost becoming unbearable.

Erik pulled away, humming a tune to the cobra swaying in the pouch. He whistled low and it slithered back into its home.

"I am not your Angel. I suggest you understand this threat, and be faithful to the man you decided to marry."

Christine's legs buckled. "How can I if I'm dead?"

"Because he is the one that chooses whether you live or die."

As if on cue, they could hear the shouting. "Christine! Christine, answer me!" Raoul's voice echoed through the hallway.

Erik bowed low, and disappeared into the shadows as the door opened.

**Author's Note: I'm happy with this chapter. I hope you all are too. Though I might have to pull things up to M-rating because of how I want the story to progress (torture and the like). So those that don't want to continue with me, you are free to leave with no hard feelings.**


	24. I See You

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, only my own**

**Chapter 24: I See You**

Annabelle's eyes slowly drifted open. A small wave of relief drifted through her body. There was no more pain constricting her chest, nor sharp pangs in her stomach. Whatever poison that was in her system must be gone. She gauged her surroundings. It was still dark outside, and the candles must have been blown out a while ago since the burnt smell still lingered. She slid a hand behind her, groping for a body that was not there.

A feeling of dread sank down to her stomach. Where was her tutor? She sat up, ignoring the pounding headache hitting her temples. The blankets were pushed down by her feet. Swinging her legs over, Annabelle used her hands to steady herself on the nightstand.

Thoughts swirled through her head, all of it mainly incoherent. She kept a steady hand along the wall as she went into the hallway. Her ears pricked up for any small noise. Slowly, she walked down to the nearby music room. As she approached, the soft notes of a piano drifted through the cracked door.

She paused before pushing in the heavy door. It swung in enough for her to slip in sideways. The notes got louder as she approached.

_"All those days chasing down a daydream._

_All those years, living in a blur._

_All that time, never truly seeing_

_Things the way they were._

_Now she's here, shining in the starlight_

_Now she's here._

_Suddenly I know._

_If she's here, it's crystal clear_

_I'm where I'm meant to go."_

Annabelle's eyes started to tear up. She staggered towards his voice. The sound of clattering stopped his fingers from hitting the keys. "Annabelle?" His soft voice drifted to her as fast as the ground coming up to meet her face. She curled up slightly, hitting the floor hard on her arms and hip. The chair she tripped over landed on her legs.

"Annabelle!" Erik pushed the seat back, rushing to her side.

_'I'm okay.'_

He lifted the chair off her lower body. Her eyes met his and he sat down on the floor, pulling her tight against his chest. "Shh.. it's okay." He leaned back enough to brush the tear tracks off her cheeks. Annabelle hadn't even realized that she was crying.

His hand cupped the base of her neck, holding her gently. "What are you doing up so late? You should still be resting."

_'I woke up and you weren't there.'_

He kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I had to just unwind before coming back in."

_'You went and saw her, didn't you?'_

"Yes."

_'Did you…'_

"No. I promised not to kill her, and I am a man of my word."

Annabelle just nodded and pushed back, gripping the closest seat to her. Erik stood, placing his hand on her lower back in support. She smiled reassuringly and gestured to the piano.

Erik bowed and resumed his seat at the piano. "Any requests, my lady?"

_'Could you.. Could you resume the song you were playing before I interrupted?'_

Erik closed his eyes. His fingers were poised above the keys. With confidence, he began to play. Annabelle closed her eyes, feeling the calming effect of the notes drifting through the air.

_"And at last, I see the light_

_And it's like the fog has lifted_

_And at last, I see the light_

_And it's like the sky is new_

_And it's warm and real and bright_

_And the world has somehow shifted_

_All at once_

_Everything is different_

_Now that I see you"_

He paused, letting the anticipation fill the room as the notes began to fade. Annabelle heard his chair scoot back. Her eyes opened as he kneeled before her, just as he had when he had been selected to be her tutor. His fingers tucked her hair behind her ear. Annabelle instinctively turned her torn side away from his gaze. Gently, he pushed her face back to him.

_"Now that I see you."_

He brushed the tears that were coming down her cheeks. "You're beautiful. Do not let anyone tell you differently."

Annabelle could only smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. Carefully, he positioned her in his arms, lifting her up.

_'Will you stay until I fall asleep?'_

"For as long as you need me."

He entered her room, closing the door with his foot. Annabelle released her grip from around his neck, sliding down until she landed fully on the bed. As usual, he tucked her in before lying down on top of the covers.

_'Will you tell me stories of your travels tomorrow?'_

"Yes, as long as you go to sleep. You have been through a rough ordeal."

_'How come you weren't poisoned?'_

"I have built a tolerance to such things. I can explain more in the morning."

Annabelle rested her head on his chest. Erik's steady heartbeat was soothing. The aches of the evening lifted off her bones as her eyes involuntarily drifted shut.

Erik's hand lightly grazed up and down her spine. "Sleep, beloved. Sleep." His words lulled her into the softness of his body and the bed. A light humming reverberated down her body. The darkness overwhelmed her, as much as she fought it just to hear his voice. But all too soon, she fell asleep.

**Author's Note: Another sweet chapter for the couple. More to come.**


End file.
